


If I Leave Before You

by hops



Series: Our Endless Numbered Days [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, IPRE Era, The Stolen Century, here there be blood and death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-28
Updated: 2017-06-28
Packaged: 2018-11-20 00:59:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11325375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hops/pseuds/hops
Summary: He wasn't used to being the one who outlived her.





	If I Leave Before You

**Author's Note:**

> It's high time I accept my fate and throw myself into writing these two  
> Thanks to @lesbianlaracrovt on tumblr for always enabling me and making me Emo <|:^)

Lucretia died first, that year.  

Magnus had lost count of the cycles; she was the one writing it all down, keeping track, taking her notes with both hands, (how, how did she do that? How was she so  _smart?_ ) keeping them on track and organized. After a while, it'd started to feel like she was keeping him on track. His compass. His north star. He spent time in her quarters, admiring the Voidfish who had grown to be nearly his height. Admiring her tireless work, the stacks of journals that lined the far side of her room. Admiring the small scowl that touched her lips as she worked. Admiring the way she smiled as he tipped her chin up between his thumb and forefinger before he kissed her.  

Despite the circumstances, things were good. They had... time. The years were anything but easy, but they were good. The time they spent together came naturally, the comings and goings to each other's quarters, the hours spent late into each night, Lucretia reading poetry in a hushed voice to Magnus who lay still in her lap. He wasn't sure when it had happened, but suddenly, it had. They'd grown to be thick as thieves. He delighted in her company. He loved her.  

Of all of the Star Blaster crew, Lucretia had died the least. She spent much of her time on the ship, working quietly, enjoying her time alone. Her work was instrumental to the team, just not as dangerous as the work of the others. She had spent her time without Magnus. It was lonely, but she lived. The first cycle without him was the hardest, and it was perhaps then, in his absence, that she realized how much she longed for his silent (or sometimes, off-key humming,) presence in her quarters as she worked, or for someone to share a meal with her while everyone else was off doing their own work. Each time they reunited was a bigger relief; a long-lost sailor coming back to shore. He'd wait to kiss her until they were alone. Every cycle they spent apart made each reunion more urgent, more difficult to hush the labored breaths that came from them both in the dark. And after, as she'd turn on a lamp to read to him and he'd look up from his spot on her chest, just waiting for her to brush her thumb over his cheekbone and say softly, with the utmost fondness: "oh, that stupid black eye," as she always did.  

He wasn't used to being the one who outlived her.  

That year, they had landed on a planet with thick jungles, trees taller than they'd ever seen. The canopies were thick. It rained constantly. Magnus and Lucretia had set out to explore, to see if the planet was truly only inhabited by animals or if there was a civilization they had missed in their flyover who might be able to help them find the Light of Creation. Just a few days into their expedition, they had stumbled across (though they didn't realize it soon enough,) the den of a beast three times the size of Magnus. Before either of them could even be keen to its presence, it bit a sizable chunk out of Lucretia's side and was ready for seconds. Magnus, in a blind rage, leveled the thing with just a few swings of his ax. It hadn't really mattered. She was as good as dead before the beast had even hit the ground.  

He'd cradled her, blood all over the both of them, barely drawing breath. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I should have--" It terrified him to see her this way, bloodied, broken, so close to death.  _I should have protected you._ He'd wanted to say it, but he couldn't find words.  

She'd reached up and touched his face, black eye not even healed yet—it was too soon to go. "It's okay, I'll be..." She rasped, reaching to grip her wound but finding little flesh to gain purchase of. She made a noise like the wind had been knocked from her. "Next time." she breathed, barely coherent, mouth close to his. "You'll be okay."  

"I love you," he said, tearfully, and kissed her. It tasted like blood. When he pulled away, she was gone.  

Of all the cycles he'd lived, nobody had ever died in his arms. It was a terrible weight, like rocks tumbling in his stomach. Like boots made of lead. After gathering himself, he had carried her body the dozens of miles they had traveled together back to the ship. He stopped only to rest from the weight or to drink water. Upon arriving at the ship, covered in her blood, eyes wide with exhaustion and paranoia, he fell to his knees. The cries of shock from the remaining crew at the ship were deafening.  

He was insistent that he dig her a grave, and that he do it alone. The blood and the rain and the mud clung to him. It was easier to cry without the rest of them knowing. 

He didn't sleep for two days. On the third, he retreated to her quarters and curled himself between her sheets. The smell of her on the pillows and a song from the Voidfish were the only things that could lull him into rest. The sleep was dreamless and lonely. Cold. He craved the warmth of her body pressed to his back, the rise and fall of her chest, the talking in her sleep.  

For once, he retreated into himself. He took a few weeks off. He grieved. He read her journals (not her personal ones, but the ones she kept the logs of their journey in.) He read poetry to the Voidfish. He wrote her letters about their days that could, maybe, suffice for the lack of writing that would happen this cycle. He missed her terribly.  

It was a long, cold, lonely year.  

He couldn't imagine the strength it had taken her to make it through so many cycles without him as he'd died foolishly, carelessly, over much less. If it had hurt her half as much as this, her resilience astounded him. He felt as if half of his heart was missing.  

He wanted to feel guilty for counting the days until the Hunger would arrive once more.  

On the day they made their escape, Magnus dissolved into the silvery white threads that he always did, and reformed across the deck from Lucretia. Before she was even fully back in her body, in herself, she was in his arms.  

"Oh, Luc," he breathed against her neck. His tears brushed against her ear and cheek as he moved against her. "Thank god. I missed you."  

She held onto him tightly as it came back: the teeth in her side, the blood, the towering trees, the tearful goodbye. She'd died in his arms, and here she was, reformed in them. The last thing she could remember before the long darkness was his arms holding her so tightly to his chest. His parting words.  

"I love you too," she whispered in his ear. She pulled away just slightly, looking up with her tearful smile  and wiping his falling tears with a gentle touch to his cheekbone. "You and that stupid black eye."  


End file.
